


Aliens and Aeroplanes

by seajelly (Legless_fish_on_rollerskates)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Airplanes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Depression, Fluff and Angst, I forgot that tag before, Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Songfic, gay warlock dowling, pansexual adam young, trio's personal mission to make every carbon leaf song about good omens, why is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legless_fish_on_rollerskates/pseuds/seajelly
Summary: Everyone is always saying that Adam has potential. His parents, his teachers, his friends. They’re convinced that he’ll do great things. But privately, Adam wonders if he reached his peak at eleven years old. He’s lost, stuck, drifting. He doesn’t lack confidence, he agrees that he could go far. If only he had any idea what he wanted to do.Warlock knows exactly what he wants to do: fly planes. But his parents are expecting him to go to law school, and he doesn’t know how to change their minds. He needs to get away, and Christmas in Lower Tadfield sounds like the perfect chance. He just wasn’t expecting the cute boy, whose history is inexplicably tied to his.**ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE**I do plan on coming back to this fic when I can, I really want to finish it, I just have too much going on in my life right now
Relationships: Brian & Pepper & Wensleydale & Adam Young (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a song by Carbon Leaf called What About Everything. I'll post the lyrics at the end, but if you want to look it up before then, go ahead. I'm not sure how long this will be yet, but I do have a plan for the basic plot. I'll try to update once a week. Disclaimer: I'm an American. I'll try to only give blatant americanisms to Warlock, but you have my full permission to call me out if I screw up.  
> So anyway, have a thing I wrote instead of doing my schoolwork.

Warlock was pretty sure he was lost. He had read in a pamphlet that there was an old airbase just outside someplace called Tadfield, and with lack of anything better to do he had decided he might as well go check it out. It could be cool. But the directions on his phone seemed to be leading him in circles. 

Warlock swore under his breath, frustrated. This probably wasn’t worth it. It was unlikely the airbase was open to the public, anyway. It wouldn’t exactly be interesting to stand outside a fence and stare at a building. But it was far too late to drive all the way back to London, and the map on his phone displayed Tadfield as the only civilization anywhere close by. With luck, he might get there before sundown, and then he could find a place to stay for the night and go to the airbase in the morning.

Unfortunately for Warlock, Luck was off playing cricket with her friends and was paying no attention to him at all. By 5:30, Warlock was cursing his useless GPS, his shitty rental car, his idiotic idea to try and go to Tadfield in the first place. Maybe his parents were right, he should just go to law school. Maybe this was God’s way of telling him that he wasn’t meant to be a pilot after all. He could barely manage to drive on the left side of the road, how was he supposed to be able to fly a plane?

As Warlock was reflecting on his life choices and stewing in a mess of family issues and self-deprecation, he finally saw a sign of life. There was a man by the side of the road, walking a dog, scowling at something that Warlock couldn’t see. Deciding not to wonder why someone would be walking a dog at night, Warlock pulled over and rolled down his window.

“Excuse me!” He called out, slightly desperate, “Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Tadfield?”

The man turned his scowl on him. “And just who are you? Are you even old enough to be driving? Where are your parents?”

“I’m seventeen, I don't need a babysitter,” said Warlock, indignant.

“So you’re  _ not _ old enough to be driving! You better get on home, I have half a mind to call the police on you, boy.”

“I - what?”  _ Shit. _ “No, I’m an American. See?” He fumbled for his license, but the man was already walking away with his dog. “Wait, please! Can you just tell me how to get to Tadfield!”

“You’re in Tadfield! And you can turn right around and get out!”

Warlock gaped at the man’s retreating back. All he’d done was ask a question, the rudeness was completely unwarranted. And what was that supposed to mean,  _ he was already in Tadfield? _ Had he somehow missed a sign? The wind clattered through the few leaves left on the trees, sending a chill through the still-open window. Warlock closed it, but didn’t resume driving. He thought glumly of the decisions that had led him to this moment.

Christmas at the Dowlings’ was a stifling affair. It was one of the only points in the year his parents were both home at the same time, which immediately created tension throughout the entire house. His father spent the two and a half weeks hosting extravagant holiday dinners that Warlock was expected to attend, taking important phone calls from people who didn’t seem at all sorry to be interrupting his vacation, and telling Warlock to cut his hair. His mother spent the time going on long trips to the spa, complaining to the servants about the dinners, and avoiding Warlock’s father. Warlock spent it going to the dinners, making small talk with the daughters of important people who his father was constantly introducing him to, and refusing to cut his hair.

It was wretched and exhausting. Warlock felt like he was walking on glass. There was always some big political agreement at stake, and any wrong move had the potential to screw up  _ the future of the world,  _ and  _ don’t you want to help America, Warlock? Don’t you want this country to thrive? _

Privately, Warlock rather thought America could go fuck itself.

But saying that would only piss his father off, and he  _ really _ couldn’t afford to piss his father off at this point if he ever wanted a chance to become anything other than a lawyer. So he had left, taken the first plane available the day after school let out, before he could say anything stupid to jeopardize his future. And honestly, he needed the break. 

He made up some bullshit story about thinking about schools in England, and wanting to remember what it was like to live there so he could make an educated decision about where to apply. He had to go over Christmas, there was no other time he was out of school long enough, he wanted to use the summer to tour schools in America. That’s what he told his parents, and they begrudgingly let him go. It wasn’t until he was wandering through the Heathrow Airport that he realized he had no idea what he was actually going to do. He certainly wasn’t scoping out law schools. But he hadn’t even booked a hotel room.  _ Why hadn’t he had the foresight to book a damn hotel room?  _

This trip was starting to seem less and less like a break and more and more like a rash, unplanned running away from his family. 

So he had sat down heavily on a bench, read a somewhat interesting sign about the history of the airport, and snagged one of the pamphlets off the wall underneath it. Most of the locations were places he had already been, with his mother or with Nanny. He idly supposed he could go back to the de Havilland Aircraft Museum, he’d probably get more out of it than he did when he was eight. But then, in the very back of the pamphlet, Warlock came across a tiny little note about the Tadfield Airbase. For some reason, he was drawn to it. 

So he rented a car - a hassle since he wasn’t eighteen, but he was the son of Thaddeus Dowling and, when he cared to, he got what he wanted - and drove to Tadfield. Or, at least, where Tadfield was supposed to be.

Warlock sighed. His phone was almost dead, and he had absolutely no idea where he was. But that rude man with the dog had said he was already in Tadfield, so it stood to reason that if he stayed on this road he would eventually run into some sort of civilization. Unless the man had been lying, in which case he would most likely end up sleeping in his car. But, he supposed, it wasn’t like he could get any  _ more  _ lost, and so on the off chance that Tadfield really was just down the road, Warlock pulled back out into the street and resumed driving.

The wind was picking up, and it buffeted the car. Warlock slowed, trying to focus on driving in a straight line. He listened to the engine, a quiet rumble that reminded him of a fighter jet far away in the sky. He thought longingly about his dream of becoming a pilot. He thought bitterly about how little his parents seemed to care about what he wanted.

And then the wind stopped, the world lightened, and a town appeared around him, as if it had always been there and Warlock had simply failed to notice it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I would update once a week, and I really am going to try and stick to that because if I don't have anything written in advance I'll get behind, but I feel like I haven't done anything at all the past few days. I just finished this chapter and really wanted to share it so I can feel somewhat accomplished today.  
> Also, I promise there will be plot soon, but the introspective exposition is important for things to make sense later on.

Adam knew he was lost. He had tried before to find himself. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure what he was trying to find. He wondered if he’d ever been found, if there had ever been a time before he was lost. Part of him didn’t think so.

But that wasn’t true, was it? Adam  _ hadn’t  _ always been lost. Up until he turned eleven he had been perfectly happy, perfectly normal. He had had dreams for the future. He had wanted to be a pirate, or a cowboy, or someone who went on daring adventures and came back home to write books about them.

Looking back, they were mostly childish dreams. But they had been  _ dreams _ , all the same. Now, dreams were a thing that other people had, that Adam observed with a resigned sort of jealousy. 

He would never admit it, but he missed his dreams. He missed the energy he once had, the passion for life. He still had creativity, but it had nowhere to go. Without an outlet, the spark in his chest turned to a raging inferno, slowly consuming him. He had long ago lost his motivation to do something with his life. He had saved the world when he was just a kid. Where did someone go from there?

Where did someone even  _ think _ about going from there?

Wensleydale was going to be a doctor. Pepper wanted to study political sciences and eventually run for Prime Minister. Even Brian had the tentative desire to teach primary school, possibly reception.

All Adam had was a Dog, some remnant magic, and a soul that felt full of thick, grey fog.

His parents were great, but they didn’t understand. Telling him to be motivated wasn’t suddenly going to give him motivation. He wasn’t being lazy, not intentionally. But he was seventeen now, and people were expecting him to have plans. Go to uni, make something of himself. His teachers would probably even prefer him to want to move to the city and work in a bar. At least then he would want  _ something. _ You could change people’s minds, convince people to adjust their misguided desires. But you couldn’t make something out of nothing, and everyone in his life was at a loss.

He had had a row with his father about it, earlier in the day, that had left them both frustrated and upset. Adam had left, run away, and somehow found himself at the old quarry. He looked around now, and a choked sob escaped him. 

If he focused, he could almost see them. Eight-year-old Pepper clutching a broken wrist under the tree she had fallen out of. Ten-year-old Brian and Wensleydale arguing over whether a cloud looked more like a pterodactyl or a dragon. Himself, eleven, hovering just off the ground, surveying it all.

The wind whistled through the trees, and Adam shook himself. Dwelling on what he had lost wouldn’t help anything. And it wasn’t the power that he wanted, anyway. He had plenty of it still. It was the long summer days, laughing with his friends, carefree and innocent. That was what he wished for, what he could never get back.

He still had his friends, of course. But they had grown up, changed, as humans do. Adam was the only one who was stuck. He felt, sometimes, that he lived in a different plane of reality. He was drifting, alone, always returning to that same spot on the airfield where everything had happened. He went back and forth from being shocked that it was only six years ago, and being astonished that it was six entire years ago. It simultaneously felt like a lifetime and a blink.

In the distance, someone called his name. Pepper. Possibly Anathema. He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be found, and so he wouldn’t be. The sky darkened. The sun was setting. 

Adam thought about potential.

People used the word  _ potential  _ a lot when talking about Adam.  _ That Adam Young, he’s going places. So much potential. He’s gonna change the world one day, you can be sure of that.  _ It hurt to hear, knowing he would never meet their expectations. 

Adam had confidence. Adam had charisma. Adam had  _ potential _ . He knew it was true. That was the worst part. If he had lacked the confidence, the knowledge that he  _ could  _ go far, it wouldn’t have been as awful. He could have convinced himself they were wrong about him; he wasn’t worth what they thought he was. It still would have hurt, but not the same way. 

Adam knew he had potential, and he knew he was wasting it. In that way, he wasn’t just disappointing everyone around him. He was disappointing himself. That hurt more than anything else. 

The wind whipped harder, the sky a reflection of Adam’s turbulent emotions. The voices called, closer now, and more of them, but Adam  _ didn’t want to be found _ . 

Maybe that was the trouble. Adam was lost, motivationless - perhaps he was so lacking in motivation that he didn’t have enough to try and find it again. Maybe he subconsciously didn’t want it back.

The sky crackled with electricity, and if there had been any clouds there would have been lightning. There would be clouds soon enough if the wind continued to blow, if Adam carried on like this.

But he couldn’t stop. He was spiraling now, lost in the confusion and pain, falling ever deeper into the hole he’d been trapped in for six years. He screamed, and Pepper stumbled into the clearing, yelling his name but looking right through him. Because Adam didn’t want to be found, and maybe he really didn’t.

The wind died as Adam broke, sobbing into the sky and the trees and the ground. Because he  _ didn’t  _ want this, couldn’t keep living like this. He needed a way out of the hole, the hole that he was digging for himself. He just didn’t know  _ how _ .

Adam’s shoulders shook, and Pepper yelled his name, and he gave in and let her find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Projecting? What do you mean? I'm not projecting. I don't know what you're talking about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Passover, Easter, or Normal Weekend in Quarantine for whoever you are and whatever you celebrate.

Warlock had opted to walk to the airfield, his reasoning being, a) He needed the fresh air after spending so much of the previous day in a car, b) He didn’t really want to get yelled at again for underage driving (even though he had a license. And even if he had been English, there were plenty of ways he could have gotten licensed legally at seventeen. Really, what was that guy’s problem?), and c) His rental car was shit. 

Like, seriously shit. He had managed to convince the company to let him rent a car using his family name, but evidently someone was resentful, because they seemed to have given him the worst car they could possibly find. The muffler was failing. It had  _ terrible  _ gas mileage. It was manual transmission, which he barely could drive when the steering wheel was on the left. One of the taillights was out (was it even legal to rent someone a car with a broken taillight?). In summary, the car sucked.

So Warlock walked, and took in the sights of Tadfield.

It was a cute little town, with lots of cottages and fields. It had the sort of open space that one could find in increasingly few places in America. Warlock passed a school, and a church, and a decent-sized grocery store. Walking through the center of town, he couldn’t help smiling at the holiday bustle. He saw a mousy, grandmotherly woman exiting a shop carrying multiple bulging bags; a boy about his own age, running around talking to various passers-by on the street; a dark-haired young woman sitting at a table outside a cafe, raising her eyebrows at the man sitting across from her, who seemed to be cursing at his cell phone. There was even a light dusting of snow on the ground.

Warlock was wary of his phone’s directions after the previous night’s failings, but he managed to find his way to the airbase with little trouble. It turned out to be about as interesting as he was expecting: A long stretch of tarmac and some grey buildings, surrounded entirely by a high fence. He doubted the soldiers at the gate would let him in to look around. 

Still, it was supposedly a historic site, and at least now he could say he had been. He turned to leave, and jumped when a voice came suddenly from… above him? He looked up in surprise, and there, sitting in a tree, legs dangling, was a boy.  _ A very cute boy _ , his brain helpfully supplied. 

Warlock told his brain to shut up.

But he couldn’t help appreciating the messy golden curls, the authority behind his eyes, the slightly cocky set of his jaw. He realized he was staring at the same time the mystery boy tilted his head and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I - uh, yeah, sorry, you just startled me. Um, what were you saying?”

“The fence is broken over that way, in the woods. It has been for years, they’ve never fixed it.”

“Um… okay?”

The boy shrugged. “You seemed like you wanted in, is all. Thought I should let you know.”

Warlock chuckled. “I’m not really feeling the whole ‘breaking into a government facility’ thing today. But thanks.”

The boy grinned. “Well, if you change your mind, now you know. I’m Adam, by the way.”

“Warlock,” Warlock replied, bracing for the inevitable comment on his name. But Adam just smiled, hopped down from the branch, and stuck out his hand.

“Good to meet you, Warlock,” he said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “How long you in Tadfield for?”

Warlock grimaced slightly. “I’m not really sure. I kind of just needed to get away from my family. I don’t exactly have a plan right now.”

Adam nodded sympathetically. “Well, hopefully you enjoy your stay for however long it lasts. Where’re you from, anyway?”

“That’s a complicated question,” Warlock frowned, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind how he had ended up in this conversation. He wasn’t in the habit of making small talk with strangers. But then again, Adam was unfairly attractive, and Warlock wanted to keep talking to him. He thought about how best to answer truthfully but concisely. “I was born here, but my parents are American, and I’ve spent the past six years living in Washington DC.”

“That’s the American capital?” Adam confirmed, and Warlock nodded. “Explains the accent.”

Warlock laughed, “Yeah, my accent’s weird, I know. Not quite English, not quite American, which really just means I sound strange wherever I am.” He tried not to let his self-consciousness show, but a hint of tension creeped into his posture.

“I rather think it’s neat,” Adam admitted.

Warlock tried and failed not to blush. “Thanks.”

—-

Adam had been sitting in a tree near the airbase, telling himself this would be the last time he would come here (as he had done the previous twenty-eight times), when he had seen him. A boy, about his age, with longish dark hair, leaning on a post and staring out across the airfield. It was clear from his body language that he wanted to be on the other side of the fence. So Adam had told him about the hole, and from there they had had a fairly normal conversation. Apart from his name, nothing seemed all that odd about Warlock.

So what was the uneasy feeling in the back of Adam’s head?

“You said you were here to avoid your family, you traveling with a friend?”

Warlock shook his head. “Nope. Just me.”

“Huh. How old are you, then?”

“Seventeen,” Warlock replied, which did not make Adam feel any better.

“Me too,” Adam said, because it was the polite thing to do. But, for some reason, he found the fact that they were the same age disturbing.

The conversation continued, with Adam trying his hardest to ignore the strange feeling. He recommended a few cafés in town, and Warlock told him about the ordeal that was his journey to Tadfield.

“Oh, yeah, that’s R. P. Tyler. He’s always like that, don’t take it personally.” Adam laughed to himself, thinking about the grumpy old man.

“But the weirdest part was, he told me I was already in Tadfield. And then, a few minutes later, I  _ was _ , and I had barely gone anywhere. It was like, I’m driving down an empty road, and then, poof! Town around me, on all sides. Like it had been hiding, or something, and finally decided to let me find it. After I’d been going in circles for  _ hours _ .”

“Oh,” Adam winced. “...sorry.”

“Why’re you apologizing? Not your fault I can’t read a map.”

“I- right, no. ‘Course not.” Adam frowned. “I should probably get going. See you round?”

“...Sure, yeah, see you around.” Warlock was clearly surprised by the abrupt end to the conversation, but Adam walked quickly away before he could say anything else.

Once he was far enough away, Adam slipped off into the woods and sat heavily down on a stump. He groaned. It had been obvious enough that he had affected the weather, but he hadn’t realized at the time that he had _ hidden the entire town.  _ He was supposed to be able to control it! He was supposed to be getting better at dealing with his subconscious, and instead he seemed to be getting worse.

And what was that weird feeling he got around Warlock? Adam didn’t think it was just because he was attracted to him, although that was probably part of it. But there was also a little niggling thing on the edge of his thoughts, like he had forgotten something important. And if he didn’t know better, he would have said they had met before. He would have remembered someone with such an unusual name, he was sure of it. But there was a familiarity, one that he simply couldn’t place. It was frustrating, and somewhat unnerving.

Adam sighed heavily, and stood up. He should probably tell Anathema about the uneasiness he was feeling, but if he went to talk to her now he would inevitably end up saying something about what he had accidentally done to Tadfield. She wouldn’t judge him, but she would want to work with him on his control, and he quite honestly did not have the energy for that right now. So Adam headed towards home, trying his hardest to push all thoughts of strange boys and unruly magic aside. But he couldn’t shake the distant feeling that something was coming full circle, that a long-loose thread in the fabric of the universe was finally being pulled taught.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's interesting to see how the characters in some ways shape themselves. I'm noticing that my Warlock swears a lot, while my Adam doesn't really at all, and it's sort of cool because that wasn't intentional at all. It just happened, because that's what they're like in my head.   
> I'll continue to try and update weekly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I'm probably going to have to shift my posting schedule to every other week; the musical that I was in has turned into a radio drama in light of the pandemic, and it's taking up a lot of my time. Thank you to everyone who has left a comment or kudos, I really appreciate the support! Slightly longer chapter today, and a little more actual plot.

Warlock spent the rest of the day in his room at the inn, idly skimming FLYING magazines he had brought with him and scrolling through Instagram. He had seen the airbase, he had no other reason to stay in Tadfield. But, he reasonably decided, he probably shouldn’t try and go somewhere else without a plan. That hadn’t gone _ horribly _ the first time, but it had gotten rather messy.

The trouble was, he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have any friends who lived nearby (or anywhere in Britain, really). He didn’t remember his way around London nearly as well as he had hoped he would. And he had to make sure his parents thought he was looking at schools, so he probably needed to drive through Oxford at some point to get pictures, but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to. He had a bit of an irrational fear that if he went anywhere near a school his parents approved of he would somehow end up stuck there. 

Or, well. He figured his parents would be able to tolerate Purdue as a  _ school.  _ They just wouldn’t approve of his choice in degree. Which was fine. Maybe he wouldn’t even go to Purdue, he didn't want to be an  _ astronaut.  _ Maybe he would go to Ohio State. That would really piss his dad off.

(He wasn’t doing this for his parents, though. He was doing this for himself. It didn’t matter if his parents loved it or hated it.) (But if he didn’t get into Purdue, Ohio was a good backup plan, with the added bonus of probably getting him disowned.)

The important part was that Warlock had absolutely zero interest in becoming an attorney. Ever. Thanks, but no thanks. 

After messing around on his phone for another two hours and getting absolutely nowhere with any sort of plan, Warlock resigned himself to spending another night in Tadfield. He would go back to London tomorrow, and if he hadn’t figured something out by then, he would wing it. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Warlock knew he should probably go and get something to eat, but he didn’t really want to move, so instead he flicked through his Tumblr notes, only partially taking it in. He could feel his nerves getting wound up. There was too much information coming at him at once, too much clutter fighting for space in his head. His chest was tight. When had that happened?

Warlock suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, and he turned off his phone without preamble, burying his face in his hands. He evidently hadn’t realized how stressed he was, as everything finally came crashing down all at once. He was lying to his parents. He didn’t have a plan. He had no idea where he was going, the terrifying uncertainty of the future looming all around him. 

Warlock sucked in a breath, then another, and shuddered involuntarily. He had thought he could do this. He had always been pretty independant. But honestly, what had he been  _ thinking _ ? He was alone, in a different country - on a different  _ continent _ \- from everybody he knew, and he had no idea what he was doing. Everything had been building over the past few days - the past few years, really - and he hadn’t even noticed until it was suddenly too much. And then it was  _ so much _ and Warlock didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know how he was going to do this, and if he couldn’t even deal with himself how was he going to deal with his parents when he finally had to make a choice, and what if he couldn’t stand up to them and they got their way and he got trapped in a miserable life that he couldn’t escape, and he really just wanted his Nanny.

_ He wanted his Nanny.  _ Warlock didn’t know where the thought had come from, but suddenly it was all he could think, and the pressure of the tears that had snuck up on him finally released as he sobbed into the empty room. He had felt so alone for so long, and it had become so normal he barely noticed it anymore. But it hadn’t always been this way, and memories began to surface, unbidden. Long forgotten laughter, the foreign warmth of unconditional love.

Nanny carefully bandaging a particularly nasty scrape on his knee, her fingers gentle and soft.  _ You’re okay. I’m here, you’re safe. It’s alright. _

Nanny smiling fondly at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, as he ran through the yard to greet Brother Francis.  _ Rambunctious little hellspawn. _

Nanny arguing fiercely with Warlock’s father when he had admonished him for crying when the kitchen cat died.  _ Children should never be faulted for experiencing human emotions! _

What would Nanny say if she could see him now?  _ She would probably tell you to get up off your arse and get some food,  _ Warlock thought with a sigh. Well, she probably wouldn’t swear, but it was still the general idea. Aggressive encouragement to take care of himself.

He wished he could talk to her for real. But he didn’t have any way to contact her, and it had surely been too long at this point. The first year she had been gone, Warlock had actively not tried to get in touch, out of spite at her for leaving him. Then, after all the freaky stuff that had happened the summer he turned eleven, he was expressly forbidden from association with Nanny or Brother Francis; the Secret Service was convinced they had been part of a conspiracy against the American Government. 

Privately, Warlock was almost positive that they had run off to get married.

It hurt some, that they never tried to contact him, but why would they? They were off living their lives, they had probably forgotten all about him. Warlock heaved another sigh and pushed himself up to a standing position. Now he was sad, but at least he wasn’t feeling as completely overwhelmed. Adam had recommended a coffee shop in town, and Warlock resolved to at least get a bagel or something. He would figure out a plan when he figured out a plan, but right now he needed to eat.

—-

The coffee shop was warm inside, quickly melting the snow that had gathered in Warlock’s hair on the walk over. Before he had a chance to get in line, he was stopped by a tall boy with brown hair wearing a Tadfield Ravens Football sweatshirt.

“Hello, I’m Brian, would you be willing to take a short survey?” The boy spoke rapidly, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands.

“Um…” Warlock frowned. “A survey on what?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly decided yet, but I want to examine generational divides in culture, so mostly your birthday and your clothes.”

“Why?”

“It’s a project for stats,” Brian explained. “We have to design a study and collect the data over the holiday, then when class starts back up we analyze it and present our findings. I was trying to do it out on the street, but I couldn’t ask every person who passed by, and there wasn’t a way to choose a random sample since I’m the one deciding who to ask. So I’m surveying everyone who comes in here instead, because it’s a little easier to manage. And it’s warmer.”

“Wouldn’t that affect your data, though?” Warlock wondered. “If you’re trying to examine cultural divides? This place is kina hipster, it caters to some types of people more than others. That introduces bias into your sample.”

Brian was silent for a second, and then he sighed. “Mate, seriously. Can you please just take the survey?”

“Yeah, fine. Hit me.”

“Okay, great. First question: How much black do you wear on a day-to-day basis?”

Warlock looked down at himself. His boots were black. His jeans were black. His t-shirt was black, although you couldn’t see it under his black jacket. “Uh… a lot?”

Brian took in his outfit, and nodded, “Alright, yeah, I’m not even gonna ask you about other colors. Favorite music genre?”

Warlock hesitated. At school, he would have probably said something like classic rock. Maybe emo, depending on who was asking. But then again, at school he wouldn’t have agreed to take the survey in the first place. And wasn’t the point of this trip to get away from the person he was supposed to be? What was the harm in answering honestly, just this once?

“I guess… late 90’s and early 2000’s pop?” Warlock grimaced slightly in embarrassment, but Brian grinned widely.

“Like the Spice Girls?”

Warlock sighed and looked at the ceiling. He could feel a blush creeping up onto his cheekbones, and he was  _ definitely  _ regretting taking this survey. “...maybe.”

“Nice. Okay, next, where were you born?”

“Um…” Warlock shook off his mortification and thought. “Actually, somewhere near here, I think. A nunnery?”

Brian cocked his head. “St. Beryl?”

Warlock shrugged, “Yeah, that sounds familiar. I’m not really sure, to be totally honest.”

“Most people from Tadfield and Woodstock were born there. Are you from Woodstock? You’re not from Tadfield, I would recognize you.”

“Woodstock?”

“Yeah, the other town just over the way. You’re not from there, then? I was having some trouble placing your accent.”

_ There was another town? He could have gone to Woodstock instead of driving around looking for Tadfield for hours?  _ Warlock shook himself. “No, I’m not from Woodstock. My parents are American, but I was raised by a Scottish woman and I lived in London until I turned eleven, so my accent’s sort of all over the place. Plus, I’ve lived in America the past few years, which has probably muddled my voice even more.”

“You’re an  _ American _ ? Really?”

“I guess.”

  
  


Brian’s eyes were wide, and he seemed weirdly excited. “Do you know why Americans call football soccer?”

Warlock stared at him. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Oh,” Brian deflated. “I’ve just always wondered. Okay, um, when’s your birthday?”

“August 20,” Warlock recited, “2008.”

“Really?”

“Um… yes?” Warlock looked at Brian strangely.

“Sorry, nothing, you just have the same birthday as one of my friends. Actually - he was born at St. Beryl too. You were probably there at the same time! That’s so cool!”

“Sure?” Warlock was slightly intimidated by Brian’s enthusiasm, but Brian didn’t seem to notice.

“I should totally introduce you to him, you would get along so well!”

“...don’t we have to finish the survey?” Warlock asked with some desperation.

“Right, let’s see, last question. Dream job?”

“Pilot.”

“Fighter or commercial?”

“Probably commercial,” Warlock shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of war. Mostly I just want to fly planes.”

Brian grinned. “Think you’ll actually do it?”

“I hope so.”

“That’s awesome mate, good for you!”

“Is that the end of the survey?” Warlock asked, itching to get in line and away from Brian’s terrifying energy. He was properly hungry now, too, and some of the muffins looked really good.

“Yup, that’s the survey, and it’s 5:00 now so my testing period is over, which means I can introduce you to Adam!” Brian grabbed Warlock’s arm and started to drag him over to a table in the back of the café, ignoring his protests. Warlock groaned under his breath and resigned himself to meeting Brian’s friend. He would just have to wait to get his muffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Warlock a Spice Girls fan. No, I will not apologize. 
> 
> Cut Brian some slack, stats projects are hard.
> 
> Yes, the ineffable husbands will be making an appearance at some point. Just to make it clear, they have not stayed in touch with Adam either. I don't get the fics where they become godfathers to Adam but don't reconnect with Warlock until years later. That just seems so out of character - they didn't know Adam at all, and Warlock was practically their son. Aziraphale I could sort of see doing that, but Crowley would never just abandon his kid for a different one.
> 
> Next chapter: Warlock meets Adam... again (and also the rest of the Them)

**Author's Note:**

> Go forth and prosper


End file.
